


Mas Que Nada

by VesuvianPancake



Series: Cleveland [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesuvianPancake/pseuds/VesuvianPancake
Summary: WARNING! THIS CHAPTER (and maybe this chapter only) CONTAINS (poor descriptions of) SELF HARM. READ IF YOU'RE OKAY WITH READING THIS KIND OF STUFF.okay, bye.~VesuvianPancake





	1. Knife--Tucker Adley

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING! THIS CHAPTER (and maybe this chapter only) CONTAINS (poor descriptions of) SELF HARM. READ IF YOU'RE OKAY WITH READING THIS KIND OF STUFF.  
> okay, bye.  
> ~VesuvianPancake

_I should just do it._

_No, I shouldn’t…_

_It would make everything better…_

_Just do it. Be like Shia LaBeouf and just do it!_

I rushed from my kitchen to the bathroom, holding a cutting knife flat on my arm. I turned my wrist, bringing the blade onto my pale skin. I pressed the knife down onto my flesh until it stung, then lifted the knife. A clean cut was visible on my forearm, a trail of blood trickling down the side. I moved up my arm, doing the same thing again, then repeating the process of self-harming myself again and again and again until I made it to the shoulder. I took the knife in my other hand and did the same to my other arm, though the cuts were much more sloppy than the ones on my right, due to my arm being this cut up.

 _What good is coming out of this?_ I thought. _I didn’t have to do this…_

When I was done, I put the knife in the sink. I stared at my arms, now tattooed with cuts and slashes that I’ve done to myself. The injuries, oddly enough, didn’t sting much. I then focused my attention on myself. I had pale skin, dark chocolate brown eyes, and atomic blonde hair that seemed to turn white in bright lights and the sun. I looked down and stared at the bleeding cuts and rummaged in the cupboard for some gauze. Finding a roll, I wrapped the gauze around my arms, then headed out of the house. Hopefully no one would stare.


	2. Encounter--Garrett Sousa

I couldn’t help but stare.  
I know it’s rude to stare, but the amount of gauze on this guy’s arms made me worry a bit. I’m not normally the type to butt into people’s business, but I felt that I had to ask what was up this time. I approached the blonde and tapped his shoulder. He turned around. I felt my face get hot from embarrassment.  
“Er… hi…” I muttered. “I-If you don’t mind me asking, why do you have gauzes on your arms?”  
The man’s eyes studied me. I don’t know what about me is worth studying. I’m your typical Brazilian dude with tan skin, amber eyes, and black hair (that I dyed honey brown the other day because it looked nice). Finally, the man said something.  
“Do you want to hear or see?” he asked.  
“See,” I answered, after contemplation.  
He nodded and sat on a bench, then patted the space next to him. I sat down next to him.  
“I’m Garrett, by the way,” I said.   
“Tucker,” the man replied. He began to remove the gauze from his arms. “Nice to meet you.”  
“Nice to meet you, too.” I replied.  
When the gauze slipped from his left arm, I saw a few cuts lining down from the shoulder and what I guessed was to his wrist. I even wondered how he was able to cut both arms if one was cut this way. I gulped.  
“Why so many cuts? Why cut at all?” I asked.  
“Self-harm,” Tucker answered.  
“Why?”  
“Depression.”   
“Why?”  
“Because… well… it’s complicated. I just feel that I don’t have a place in the world.”   
“Do you try to find a place in the world?”  
Tucker opened his mouth to say something, but paused and looked away. “Well, no… Not really…”  
“Then try to search,” I said. “Maybe ask someone to help you.”  
Tucker looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “C-Can you help me?” he asked.  
I blushed. “O-Of course!”  
“Fantastic.” Tucker smiled. It was adorable. From then on, I felt that we’d be pretty good friends.


	3. Beach Day-- Tucker Adley

Garrett and I walked from where we were at the bench and all around the city to the beach. I should probably mention that we live in Cleveland. Cleveland is a city in the north part of Ohio, right on Lake Michigan. It’s not bad, unless you live in east Cleveland. That’s where I grew up. It was utter chaos where I lived. I was lucky just to graduate kindergarten. Apparently, Garrett moved to Cleveland when he was seven years old and lived in west Cleveland ever since. I might’ve seen him around once or twice downtown. He looked vaguely familiar. I had a way with remembering faces.  
“So,” Garrett said. “What do you like to do?”  
“Read and write journal entries,” I replied. “What about you?”  
“Cook and play music,” Garrett replied.  
“What instrument?” I asked. “I play the flute and bass guitar.”  
“I play guitar and piano.”  
“Cool.”  
It took me a while to realize that Garrett had a guitar case on his back. Maybe I was just that clueless. As we walked, I hummed a tune that caught my interest while I was listening through a music playlist. It seemed that Garrett recognized that song, because he took his guitar out of his case and started playing.  
“You know this song?” I asked.  
“I should know it, I’m Brazilian!” he chuckled.  
“What’s it called? I was listening to it recently.”  
“Mas Que Nada. By Sergio Mendes and The Black Eyed Peas.” he answered.  
“Ah. I don’t know the words, I can just dance.” I grinned.  
“You can dance when we get to the beach,” Garrett said. “I’ll play and sing, don’t worry.”  
I smiled and took his hand. “Then let’s hurry before I lose motivation!” I started to run.  
Garrett gasped. “Hey, wait!” he ran with me.


	4. Mas Que Nada--Garrett Sousa

We arrived at the beach. It was a bit brisk, but the sun was out so it turned out to be a really nice day. I sat on a rock and watched as Tucker stood barefoot in the sand, stretching his arms and legs. He glanced at me every now and then, giving me warm smiles. Once, he winked. I smiled.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” Tucker answered, taking off his jacket. I would’ve thought that he was nuts to wear a jacket in late August, but whatever. I hummed quietly, then started strumming my guitar, and Tucker started to dance.

“ _ Oriá raiô _ ,” I sang. “ _ Obá obá obá _ .”

Tucker smiled and me and sang back. “ _ Oriá raiô! Obá obá obá _ .”

A guy from nearby who seemed to recognize the song joined in.

“ _ Mas que nada _ ,” he sang, then began to rap. “Black Eyed Peas came to make it hotter! We be the party starters! Bubblin' up just like lava!”

“Like lava heated like a sauna,” I continued. “Penetrating through your body armor. Rhythmically we massage ya with hip hop mixed up with samba!”

“With samba,” the guy and I rapped in unison. “So yes yes, y'all! You know we never stop, we never rest, y'all! The Black Eyed Peas are keeping it funky fresh, y'all! And we won't stop until we get y'all, til we get y'all sayin'...”

“ _Oriá raiô!_ ” Tucker and I sang in unison. “ _Obá obá obá!_ _Oriá raiô! Obá obá obá!_ ”

I let the stranger continue with the rapping. I was too focused on Tucker’s samba dancing skills. As far as I knew, Tucker was absolutely NOT Brazilian, let alone Portuguese. I decided to ask him later. I continued to play the guitar while the stranger dude kept rapping. Eventually, it came to the mostly Portuguese part, so I was getting ready to sing that part, but Tucker beat me to it.

“ _ Mas que nada, _ ” he sang. I thought he didn’t know the song. Oh, well. “ _ Sai da minha frente! Eu quero passar! Pois o samba esta animado, O que eu quero e sambar, Este samba…! Que e misto de maracatu? E samba de preto velho, Samba de preto tu! _ ” His pronunciation was perfect. I couldn’t believe it. I somehow managed to continue to play. but , like all good things, the song came to an end. The stranger guy waved goodbye and walked off while I stared at Tucker, amazed.

“You said you didn’t know the song!” I said.

“I don’t!” Tucker protested. “I had no clue that I’d know the words like that…”

“It’s the power of sambaaaa!” I joked. “ _ O poder do samba tem você! _ ”

“The power of samba does NOT have me, sir!” Tucker sat down on the rock next to me.

“How did you know what I said?” I asked. “Are you Portuguese?”

“My grandmother is, yeah,” Tucker brushed the sand off his feet. “I’m half Portuguese, half Scottish.”

“What, is your middle name Portuguese or something? I’m curious.”

“My name is Tucker Carmo Adley.”

Carmo was a Portuguese unisex name. It meant “Garden of God”. Interesting.

“Coolio,” I said, smiling.

“So you’re Brazilian?” Tucker asked.

“Yeah,” I answered, putting my guitar back in its case. “And Turkish. On my mother’s side.”

“What’s  _ your _ full name?” Tucker asked

“Garrett Ayberk Sousa,” I answered.

“Ah,” Tucker nodded and looked away. I glanced at him. I could see that his ears were a bit pink. Was he blushing? He turned to me. His face was red.

“Uh-” he stammered. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… a-are you gay?”

“Well, that was out of the blue,” I muttered. “But yeah. I am. Why, are you?”

“I-- y-yeah… figured it would be a bit obvious by the way I dance to samba.”

“Maybe a bit obvious. You were still really good.” I smiled.

Tucker smiled back. “Thanks. You’re good at guitar.”

“ _ Obrigado _ ,” I replied, thanking him.

Tucker blushed redder and turned away. “D-Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Hell yeah, I do!” I said a bit too loud. Tucker jumped. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“A little, yeah. It’s okay,” Tucker turned to me. “Er… I think I like you.”

“Odd coincidence! I like you, too!” I replied, blushing.

“I mean like,  _ like you _ , like you. Not just friendly friendship liking.”

“That’s what I mean, too!” I blushed redder. “ _ É esse destino? _ ”

“It might as well be…” Tucker blushed and put his jacket over his head. I could hear him muttering “oh my god” over and over again. It was cute. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey," I said. "I know this was WAY too fast, I mean we've only known each other for about 20 minutes, but it's okay! We can make this work!"

Tucker peeked through his jacket shelter. "Y-You think so?"

"I know so, honey." I smiled and gave him a small peck on the cheek.

Tucker blushed and smiled, then rested his head on my shoulder. "I think I love you, Garrett. More than anything."

" _Mas que nada_?" I asked.

He looked at me and nodded. " _Mas que nada._ "


End file.
